Bram spins back in my direction. His eyes flash with anger. “This is barbaric.”

“I agree. But you said yourself that this place was built to train soldiers to withstand torture. So, let’s withstand it.” I shove my arm through the opening, wincing as I rotate my shoulder out of place. My fingers graze the top of the lever. “I’m ready.”

Bram moves close to me. “I hate this,” he whispers.

“I know. Me too.”

“Saskia—”

“Just do it,” I say. “Now, please.”

Agony shoots through my arm as it snaps with a sickening crack. I scream. My limp hand slams into the lever.

And nothing happens.

I let out a choked sob. All that pain for nothing. But then a metallic screech pierces the air. The wall begins to move on both sides, splitting apart like a banana peel, and I quickly step to the side to avoid being dragged along. The additional motion is excruciating. It hurts so much more than I was expecting. I need to extricate my arm from the opening, but I can’t move it. I try and fail to bite back a whimper.

Bram’s hand finds the small of my back. “I’ve got you,” he says, lifting my arm and gently guiding it through the opening. My eyes find his. “I’m so sorry.” He looks like he’s about to be sick.

“Don’t be,” I tell him. “It worked.”

Tessa appears beside me. “I need a bit of your blood for the healing spell.” Her voice is all business, but her face is streaked with tears. She takes my uninjured hand in hers and pricks the pad of my finger with a sewing needle. A bright red drop wells at the surface and she squeezes it onto the bones. “Almost done.”

A few moments later a wave of relief washes over me, and I’m not sure I’ve ever felt anything sweeter.

“Better?” Tessa asks.

“Yes,” I say, giving her a weak smile. “Much better.”

“It’s going to be achy for a few days,” Tessa says. “You should avoid moving it as much as possible.”

Bram takes off his shirt and wraps it around my arm, creating a makeshift sling. He ties the ends around my neck. His breathing is ragged. He’s close enough that I can feel the heat coming off his bare chest, and it makes my own breath go uneven.

“Is that comfortable?”

I can’t trust myself to speak, so I just nod. Our eyes meet briefly and then Bram pulls his gaze away and puts his cloak back on.

“Should we get out of here?” Niklas asks.

The doors are fully open, and the fresh air, cold as it is, has never felt more welcoming.